ink and sunlight
I went out in the cold sunlight, a little slowly as I'm still convalescing. I went into the river valley and printed my book. Just one copy for myself, to test the process and determine the cost. And I remembered what I learned when I printed off Otherwise, all those years ago, in the little house in the rose garden, high above the sea - that seeing my words in ink, on a page, makes a difference I can not describe.
And now the world is washed with older light - not exactly a golden hour, not this far into winter, when the light and the love is more mellow. A peaceful hour though, tenderly luminous. I find myself wishing that all women were loved the way the sun loves the earth.
When you watch light slide down the thigh of the day, towards the dark, you find such a comfort, for this is what we need to sustain us - this earth, this sun, this wild holy love.